Luo Luo dreamed of Li Zhaoye again.
In the dream, the sunlight was bright, the breeze warm, and she felt lazily content.
The young swordsmanship prodigy jumped down from the pear tree, arms crossed over his sword, his expression cocky as he asked boldly, "Hey hey hey, you’ve got a thing for me, don’t you?"
Caught staring, she flushed with embarrassment.
Before she could think of an excuse, he burst into laughter. "What a coincidence—I’ve got a thing for you too!"
That guy was always brimming with arrogance.
His skin was pale but rough, his features wild and striking, with a short, slanting cross-shaped scar on his left cheek—the day he got it, he’d been thrilled, having always hated how his face looked a little too pretty.
When he grinned like that, even the sunlight seemed brighter.
In the dream, her heart and eyes felt struck.
Luo Luo didn’t want to wake up, but she knew she had to.
It had been ninety-nine days since Li Zhaoye disappeared. No body, no trace.
She was searching for him.
"Crash—crash—"
She opened her eyes. No spring breeze, no warm sun, no pear blossoms, no sword-cradling boy.
Dark clouds churned overhead, the black sea waves pounding against the rocks one after another. She sat alone beneath the cliff, her robes long soaked through, a thin layer of ice crusting her legs, the cold biting to the bone.
The salty sea wind scattered the lingering scent of pear blossoms from her memory.
She must have dozed off in the dead of night—just half a dream of pear blossoms, and when she woke, dusk had already fallen.
The setting sun struggled through layers of black clouds, casting intermittent pale streaks of light.
She scolded herself, "Luo Luo, you can’t keep sleeping like this!"
Li Zhaoye had vanished near the Black Abyss Sea.
He’d been caught in a brutal battle—his lifebound sword shattered, his soul-blood staining the sand.
No traces of departure, no body found.
Three Nascent Soul elders from the sect had scoured the area for miles, turning everything upside down, but found no clues.
Such a sudden disappearance could only mean one thing—Li Zhaoye had been devoured by a great demon. Judging by the fresh blood at the scene, he’d likely been eaten… alive.
The demon had swallowed him whole and fled into the sea, the tides washing away all evidence.
The elders tacitly avoided saying it aloud, treating it as an unsolved case and marking him as missing.
They all comforted Luo Luo in the same tone: "That kid’s tough. Who knows? He might just walk back one day. Don’t worry too much."
Luo Luo requested leave from her master, Master Qingxu.
From that day on, she never left the shore.
She and Li Zhaoye had once formed a Heartbond Pact—a crimson sigil burned into the center of her left wrist, twin hearts woven from a slender red thread, their soul-blood intertwined.
It could help her find him.
Setting up defensive arrays around her, she sat cross-legged on the rocks, channeling her soul-blood into the endless sea, casting out blood-tinted spirit threads.
If she caught his scent, she’d feel a faint pull.
She had to find him. Bring him home.
She couldn’t leave him alone in the sea.
For nearly a hundred days, she maintained the spell, barely sleeping, never resting. She didn’t feel tired—only sometimes, she’d drift off without realizing.
Usually just for a moment. Not like this time, from midnight to dusk.
Her chest felt heavy, sinking with a dull ache.
Waking at dusk filled her with a hollow, bone-deep terror, as if the world had abandoned her.
Shaking off the dread, she focused, sending more soul-blood deeper into the black waters.
Then, without warning, blurred images flickered before her.
Between two lifeless coral reefs, a plump gray fish the size of a human head swam lazily into view.
Luo Luo’s spirit trembled—her left wrist pulsed wildly. This fish carried Li Zhaoye’s scent!
After searching so long with nothing, she’d stumbled upon a clue by sheer accident, the currents guiding her while she slept.
Her heart raced, dizziness and ringing filling her ears.
If this fish had bitten Li Zhaoye… did that mean he was nearby?
"Thud, thud-thud!"
Her heartbeat grew frantic.
The gray fish swam closer, its gills flaring to reveal slime-coated skin and thin pink flesh. With a flick of its tail, it sucked in a spirit thread along with seawater, filtering the water out while the thread delved deeper, drawn to Li Zhaoye’s presence in its belly.
Then—lightning struck.
Luo Luo saw a face.
A ghastly pale face. Li Zhaoye’s face.
"Buzz… buzz… buzz…"
The ringing in her ears grew deafening.
His severed head rested inside the fish’s stomach, skin like plaster, his expression twisted in agony, eyes half-lidded and clouded with death.
Even in death, his gaze remained defiant, mocking.
Luo Luo’s mind went blank, her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe.
She’d finally found him.
"Little Junior Sister! Little Junior Sister! We’ve found Senior Brother! We’ve found him!"
A voice like spring thunder shattered the nightmare, jolting Luo Luo awake.
She gasped, eyes snapping open—only darkness surrounded her, white waves shattering against the rocks.
The night was still long. Not dusk.
What she’d seen was just another dream—a nightmare within a nightmare, where Li Zhaoye was dead.
"Little Junior Sister? Luo Luo!"
She panted, her heart hammering in her throat, limbs weak, blood roaring in her ears.
A soft "creak" sounded as a pair of black Daoist boots landed on the rocks.
"Whoa—this ice is slippery as hell!" Senior Brother Yang flailed before steadying himself. "Master Qingxu sent me! They’ve found Senior Brother!"
Luo Luo whispered, "Li Zhaoye?"
She asked carefully, afraid the words might break something.
Senior Brother Yang nodded vigorously. "Who else? Our Tai Xuan Sect’s head disciple, undisputed champion of the Qingyun Tournament, the future of cultivation, the once-in-three-millennia swordsmanship prodigy—Senior Brother Li Zhaoye!"
Luo Luo: "Alive?"
Senior Brother Yang facepalmed. "Obviously!"
Luo Luo: "Oh."
Dreams were the opposite. Dreams had to be the opposite.
Senior Brother Yang hopped onto his flying sword, jerking his chin. "Stop grinning and move it!"
Luo Luo: "I’m not grinning."
She touched her face—the thin ice had cracked away without her noticing.
Two streaks of light cut through the night sky.
For the eighteenth time, Senior Brother Yang caught Luo Luo pinching herself.
He sighed. "Little Junior Sister, this isn’t a dream. Quit it."
Luo Luo nodded obediently.
A moment later, she pinched again.
Senior Brother Yang: "Stop pinching!"
Luo Luo: "I don’t feel pain."
Senior Brother Yang: "Because you’re pinching me!"
Luo Luo blinked innocently. "I’ve got thick skin. Pinching myself doesn’t hurt, dream or not."
…So she’d have to inconvenience her senior brother instead.
Senior Brother Yang’s eye twitched. "Fair. Most people who ‘spar’ with Senior Brother need three days to recover after one beating. But you? You’re the freak who got knocked down seventeen times and still got back up!"
That beast—no, that swordsman—held nothing back in training. No mercy, no chivalry. What kind of lunatic could knock a pretty girl flat over and over, then point his sword at her nose and order her to stand up and keep fighting?
Everyone avoided him, but she was the only one who kept seeking him out, getting knocked down time and again, only to rise back up, swinging her sword at him through tears.
Anyone who saw them would say they were a match made in heaven.
At this thought, Senior Brother Yang suddenly felt a pang in his chest.
"Little Junior Sister," he gritted his teeth, "there's something... Master Qingxu asked me to give you a heads-up so you can brace yourself."
Luo Luo nodded obediently. "Go ahead, Senior Brother Yang."
Too preoccupied with choosing his words carefully, he didn’t notice how she addressed him. "Senior Brother Li... injured his head. He’s forgotten everything from the past, including you."
Luo Luo’s face fell. "He remembers nothing at all?"
Seeing her pale, weary expression, Senior Brother Yang felt a twist of guilt, unsure how to comfort her.
He nodded glumly.
Luo Luo sighed. "Ah, then I don’t know who to take revenge on anymore."
Senior Brother Yang: "..."
That’s not the point! The point is he forgot you!
Better to rip the bandage off quickly. Steeling himself, he blurted, "After his injury, a mortal woman saved him. He forgot about his engagement and grew close to her. Yesterday, she was accidentally tainted by demonic energy. Senior Brother Li took her to our sect’s mortal outpost for treatment—that’s how we recognized him."
Luo Luo asked, "Where are they now?"
She was ready to empty her entire treasure stash—both from her qiankun bag and her home—to gift to the kind soul who had saved Li Zhaoye.
"Master Qingxu has already brought them back to the sect," Senior Brother Yang reassured her. "Once Senior Brother Li sees you, his memories might return. Don’t worry yet."
Luo Luo nodded. "I’m not worried."
Seeing his face in the belly of that fish had terrified her. Now, just surviving felt like a blessing.
His amnesia didn’t matter. Missing limbs wouldn’t have mattered either—she hadn’t even asked if he was intact.
Senior Brother Yang added, "If he says anything harsh... don’t take it to heart. His mind’s just unwell right now. Rest assured, the entire sect stands with you!"
Eleven years of life-and-death companionship—how could it compare to a mere hundred days?
"I know," she said sincerely. "Thank you, Senior Brother Yang."
Senior Brother Yang: "...My surname isn’t Yang."
Luo Luo: "My apologies."
After a pause, she still couldn’t recall his name. "Senior Brother Not-Yang."
Senior Brother Yang: "..."
Must you be so literal? A vague "Senior Brother" would’ve sufficed.
Flying on swords was forbidden within the sect.
Luo Luo and the still-unnamed senior brother dismounted, sprinting up the long stone steps.
As they hurried, a thick layer of stares clung to her back—mostly pity, some gossip, and a few gleeful onlookers itching for drama.
Nearing the Hall of Heart’s Trial, Master Qingxu’s scolding voice echoed from afar.
Luo Luo leaped over the crimson steps and burst into the grand hall.
Her eyes locked onto Li Zhaoye immediately.
No matter how many people surrounded him, he always stood out the most.
"Li Zhaoye!"
After a hurried bow to the elders, she darted to his side, her hand instinctively gripping her sword’s hilt. The blade hummed eagerly in her grasp.
She and her sword had missed him equally.
He’d grown thinner, but his spirit was sharp, his presence undiminished.
She stared at his face, over and over, until the chilling image in her mind finally dissolved.
His gaze held nothing but the cold detachment of a stranger. Luo Luo didn’t mind.
She beamed at him. "Li Zhaoye."
She kept smiling, bright and unrestrained. "Li Zhaoye."
Pure. Radiant.
Even the hardest heart would soften at such a sight.
Every onlooker was moved.
Except Li Zhaoye.
